


Magic Works In Mysterious Ways

by Amethystina



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (Again pretty accidental), (He actually chooses it so no accident there), (It was accidental), And lots of domestic situations, And the creation of kids using magic, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Fluff, ImagineTonyandBucky Prompt Fill, Kid Fic, M/M, Magic, Parent Bucky Barnes, Parent Tony Stark, it's just cute okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:30:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: Tony has no idea why he volunteers to take care of the magically created copy of James Buchanan Barnes. First of all, the man killed his parents, be it under mitigating circumstances. Second of all, the copy appears in the shape of a two-year-old boy and Tony knows that he is, quite possibly, the least suitable person to look after a small child. Despite his misgivings, Tony is willing to give it a try, and it doesn't take long at all before he's irrevocably attached to the kid. Who knew being a parent could be so rewarding?Of course, it's only a matter of time before Barnes shows up, making tentative but heartfelt attempts to get to know the kid. Before Tony knows it, he's spending more and more time in Barnes' company, and he isn't the least bit surprised when that complicates their already complicated relationship even further.Tony falls in love.





	Magic Works In Mysterious Ways

**Author's Note:**

> _**Prompt by[Amaltiirtare](http://amaltiirtare.tumblr.com/):** Imagine, that when Strange separated the Winter Soldier programming from Bucky, it physically manifested in a form of a two-year old boy. So, everybody is freaking out, except Tony, who just takes it in stride, while mumbling about fudging magic, picks the kid up, wraps him in a blanket and calms him down. After that, Tony is the one constantly taking care of the kid, while Bucky is shyly warming up to the idea of basically having a younger brother and joining Tony in parenting the wee Winter Soldier._
> 
> After a year of inactivity I finally manage to write another [ImagineTonyandBucky](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/) prompt! Woho! Those of you who have read _[Autonomy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5485781/chapters/12674678)_ might remember that I said that Winter would never really be seen outside of that particular story? Well, turns out that wasn't exactly true. It's obviously not the exact same Winter, but this is, without a doubt, the closest we'll ever come to seeing him in another universe. So I hope you'll enjoy that ;)
> 
> Since this fic takes place after Civil War, Tony will probably come across as a little rude towards Steve, but I assure you it’s temporary and that both Tony and I still love Steve very much.
> 
> A massive thank you goes out to [Shi_Toyu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu) who betaed this on really short notice and did an awesome job of it as well. I know I've said it already, but you are a lifesaver. Thank you <3

 

Tony couldn't say why he did it. He had no experience with children. They were small, innocent, and breakable — all terrifying things — and, out of everyone at the Avengers headquarters, he was quite possibly the least suitable person to be looking after a toddler. It was just that everyone else seemed to have forgotten about the child in question.

The little boy was just standing there, wide, blue eyes staring at the adults towering above him, clearly not knowing where he was, how he had gotten there, or why everyone was shouting.

Tony felt the tug of a memory — of sharp, disappointed words and whiskey-laced breath — but quickly shoved it down. He recognized the look on the boy's face; the barely concealed fear hidden being a mask far too blank to be on a face so young. Tony knew it was only a matter of time before those small shoulders began to tremble from suppressed sobs, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to just stand by and watch that happen.

He was moving before he could think better of it.

He grabbed the blanket from the nearby couch and elbowed his way past Wilson and Strange to reach the kid. As he crouched down, those big, innocent eyes snapped to meet his and Tony had to swallow when he saw the dread on the boy's face.

"Sssh, it's okay," he whispered, hoping to comfort the poor thing. "Come here." Tony gently reached out and wrapped the blanket around the kid's naked shoulders, relieved when he didn't fight or start screaming.

The kid had an intense stare, and there was an almost shocking level of intelligence in his gaze — but also vulnerability. His eyes were filling with tears and Tony wasn't sure if he was the right person to handle what came next, but he seemed to be the only one willing to try. The shouted conversation around them had stopped, but Tony ignored that in favor of the little boy. He looked to be two years old, at most.

"It's okay," Tony said softly, settling down on his knees. He tucked the blanket tighter around those narrow, trembling shoulders, trying not to let his nerves show. The way the kid was staring at him, quiet and miserable, wasn't helping.

Then, without further ado, the kid broke.

His little face scrunched up, lip wobbling, and Tony quickly scooped up the child into his arms, blanket and all. Tony was the first to admit that he had no idea what he's doing, but the kid didn't seem to care. He curled up in Tony's embrace, as if trying to make himself as small as possible, and hid his face against Tony's neck. Tony felt a pang when the kid started shaking from choked sobs, and he hesitantly stroked the boy's hair, hushing him gently.

Never before had Tony held something that felt both so incredibly precious and terrifyingly fragile.

When Tony looked up, everyone was staring at him. The surprise on their faces was far from flattering, but Tony couldn't exactly blame them; he wasn't the natural choice when it came to comforting a child.

Steve had a concerned frown on his face and was still half-turned towards Strange, obviously having stopped in the middle of their heated discussion. Natasha stood a discreet couple of feet away, arms crossed over her chest, but she somehow managed to look less judgmental than Wilson. _He_ seemed to be debating whether or not to liberate the toddler from Tony's arms.

Barnes wasn't looking at them at all, apparently too fascinated by the floor.

A flare of anger made Tony rise to his feet, still cradling the boy. If Steve, Barnes, and Strange hadn't decided that experimenting with fucking _magic_ was a good idea, none of this would have happened. Granted, Barnes had been looking dazed and vaguely nauseated ever since the little boy had suddenly materialized in their living room, but he'd done nothing to comfort the disoriented child.

Steve faced Tony, his expression firm yet placating. Tony could tell that the good captain was about to say something — probably something stupid, knowing Steve — so Tony spoke first.

"I told you magic was a bad idea," he snapped, glaring at the three men responsible. Barnes was the only one who looked uncomfortable, and Tony had to grit his teeth against another surge of anger.

Steve obviously meant well. Tony knew by then that there was nothing Steve wouldn't do for his best friend — which still stung, thank you very much — but Tony didn't trust Strange as far as he could throw him. And he certainly didn't trust _magic_.

"We didn't know this would happen," Steve said, taking a step towards Tony and the boy.

Bizarrely, Tony felt a wave of protectiveness that instinctively made him hug the child tighter. Steve wasn't the enemy — Tony had known that all along, even in Siberia — but that didn't mean he wasn't a threat. Small, chubby fingers were clenched desperately around the fabric of Tony's ratty t-shirt, his collar wet from tears, and Tony knew he wasn't going to hand the boy over. Not even if Steve asked.

Tony was well aware of how preposterous that was — he had no claim on this child. If anything, the boy belonged with Barnes and, by extension, Steve, but they hadn't exactly proven themselves trustworthy.

"He should have known," Tony replied, nodding towards Strange, who regarded Tony and the child with an unreadable look on his face.

"Everything can be fixed," Strange began, "we only—"

"Don't bother," Tony interrupted, carefully hoisting the boy higher to secure his grip. He looked at Barnes, but he was still staring at the floor with frankly impressive vigor, so Tony's gaze settled on Steve instead. "Once you've stopped shouting at each other, you can come find us in the workshop."

Steve looked like he might have wanted to protest, but Tony didn't give him the chance. Without another word, Tony turned on his heel and left the room with the tiny, two-year-old version of James Barnes in his arms.

 

* * *

 

In all honesty, Tony couldn't blame Steve and Barnes for trying everything imaginable to help with Barnes' recovery. The idea of magically separating Barnes from his Winter Soldier programming sounded wonderful _in theory_ , but any kind of instantaneous fix to something that complicated was almost always too good to be true.

Tony had been against it from the beginning. He'd offered BARF as a more reasonable, scientific alternative but, unfortunately, Steve and Barnes had no reason to listen to him. Tony had very little to do with the subject of Barnes' recovery, mainly because he had so very little contact with Barnes in general.

After Siberia, it had just seemed like the wiser choice.

To be honest, the hostility had fizzled out rather quickly in Tony's case, only to be replaced by a deep feeling of betrayal — though Barnes was not the one responsible for it. In the end, Tony was more upset by what Steve had done — hiding the truth from him for years, telling himself it was for Tony's sake when, clearly, it was all about Steve wanting to protect himself and Barnes.

Regardless of Steve's betrayal, Tony knew perfectly well that Barnes couldn't be held responsible for what he had done all those years ago. The man had been tortured, brainwashed, and forced to commit crimes he now seemed to regret enough that he withdrew from practically everyone around him, except Steve and, surprisingly, Natasha. On his good days, Barnes also enjoyed bickering with Wilson but, on the whole, he was a sad, lonely man, weighed down by enough guilt that Tony didn't feel like he should add more.

He, if anyone, understood what it was like to have a past you desperately wanted to rewrite.

Despite having forgiven Barnes months ago, Tony had never said the words out loud. He pretended that the delay was because he'd been busy rewriting the Accords into something Steve could accept, then fighting through legal battles and red tape to get the rogue Avengers — and Barnes — acquitted. But, truth be told, he was just too much of a coward. Forgiving Barnes meant that he should probably forgive Steve, too, and he wasn't sure if he could do that just yet.

The betrayal was still a festering wound, deep and aching.

Still, Tony had nothing against Barnes as a person, even if their interactions ranged from stilted to non-existent. Tony only really fit into Barnes' everyday life in the capacity of his mechanic. Even before Steve and his gang of rogue superheroes had been allowed back into the US, Tony had started designing a new arm for Barnes. He'd done it mostly out of guilt — he was still ashamed of how he had reacted back in Siberia — but Tony wasn't sure if Barnes had ever taken the new and improved arm for the unspoken apology that it was.

In general, Barnes seemed uncomfortable in Tony's presence. Because of that, Tony had decided to keep his distance unless it had to do with maintenance on Bucky's arm.

So Tony understood if Steve and Barnes didn't take his advice to heart — he had very little insight into the situation. The fact that most of Tony's arguments had started with 'since magic doesn't exist' probably didn't help, either.

Frustratingly enough, magic _was_ real, and the proof was currently sitting on Tony's workbench, curiously examining one of Tony's screwdrivers. The tool was far from a safe toy for a kid, but even after just ten minutes with the boy, Tony could already tell he wasn't quite like other children. Tony supposed that made sense. The kid was — if Strange's spell had worked correctly — essentially the Winter Soldier, separated from Barnes and, curiously, made into its own person. And while the Winter Soldier could be called many things, average was not one of them.

A part of Tony was waiting for the moment when the boy would try to stab the screwdriver through Tony's hand or something equally violent, but it hadn't happened so far. The boy just sat there, quiet, eyes wandering over the wonders of Tony's workshop, but without reaching for any of it. He was a serious child and, now that he had stopped crying, looked almost eerily expressionless — only made worse by the fact that he hadn't said a word. The blanket was still wrapped around his tiny shoulders, trailing down over the edge of the workbench.

"FRIDAY," Tony said, catching the attention of both his AI and the boy. "Find him some clothes, will you?"

"Will do, boss," FRIDAY replied.

The boy tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. He didn't look afraid, merely curious.

"That's FRIDAY," Tony explained, smiling when the boy looked his way. "She's an AI. A computer system I designed." Tony had no idea how much a two-year-old might understand, so he kept it simple. He only had his own experiences to draw from and he'd been told that he had been a rather extraordinary child.

Then again, so was a miniature Winter Soldier, he supposed.

Not that the kid looked much like the Winter Soldier. He had both of his arms, for one, and while he had a less expressive face than the average child, he didn't look the least bit dangerous with his wide, blue eyes and mop of brown hair. He was, in fact, absolutely adorable.

Tony leaned his hip against the workbench, studying the tiny human he had somehow managed to claim responsibility over. He really hadn't thought this through. What did he know about taking care of a child?

"Are you hungry?" Tony asked. Kids had to eat, right?

The little boy shook his head, already back to his inspection of the screwdriver. Tony wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel insulted that he was obviously less interesting than an inanimate object, but he had been the same as a kid — he was hardly the one to judge.

"You'll tell me if you get hungry, right?"

This time, Tony got a nod. Would it be irresponsible of him to leave it at that? The kid didn't seem in desperate need of anything, content to play with Tony's tools. Was Tony supposed to play with him? Talk to him?

How did you take care of a small child?

Tony brought up a screen with a flick of his wrist. While FRIDAY was already arranging clothes for the little tyke, they would need lots of other things in order to take care of a toddler. Tony had no idea _what_ — his area of expertise lay elsewhere — but that was what internet searches were for.

"Okay, FRIDAY," Tony said, duplicating the screen, "let's make a list. No, two lists. Things to buy and what changes we need to make around here."

"Changes, boss?" FRIDAY asked.

"Baby proofing, FRIDAY. Judging by little Winter's fascination with screwdrivers, we better make sure he doesn't try to stick them into any sockets." Tony was already typing, bringing up site after site promising to tell him exactly what his child needed for a healthy, happy upbringing.

"On it," FRIDAY replied.

Tony smiled, throwing a quick glance at the kid before returning to his screens. "Let's start with the essentials..."

 

* * *

 

It took over four hours before Steve deigned to visit Tony's workshop. In that time, Winter had had a little nap, a snack from Tony's mini-fridge, and was now wearing one of Tony's t-shirts in wait for some actual clothes. Express delivery to the Avengers headquarters was difficult to arrange, apparently, due to all the security checks.

Not that Winter seemed to mind that he wore a garment big enough to be considered a dress. Tony had tried to find the smallest of his t-shirts, but Winter still disappeared inside it, the collar wide enough to almost slip off one of his shoulders.

On the plus side, Winter in a gigantic AC/DC t-shirt was _beyond_ cute.

Steve looked slightly wary as he approached the workbench Winter was perched on. The kid was drawing on the Stark tablet Tony had given him once he realized he didn't have any actual paper in his workshop. That — together with crayons — was now one of the many items on the rather extensive list of things to buy that he and FRIDAY had managed to compose.

"How is he?" Steve asked, voice hushed as he stopped next to Tony. His eyes were on the boy, though, something soft yet pained in his gaze.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Ask him yourself."

Steve didn't. Instead he studied the boy, as if trying to find similarities between him and the adult Barnes he knew so well. There were some — the eyes, the hair color, the slope of his nose — but a lot of it probably wouldn't show for another couple of years. Overall, Winter looked like a normal child, even if there was no telling what was going on inside his head.

"He looks so... innocent," Steve said. He might have been talking to himself, but Tony couldn't help replying.

"That's because he is." Tony didn't know that for sure — the kid was a condensed version of the Winter Soldier, after all, squeezed into a tiny, adorable package — but he'd be damned if he let Steve treat Winter like a threat.

Steve took a deep breath, as if to gather strength. "Dr. Strange has examined Bucky. The spell was successful. The programming has been removed, but he can't be sure why, well..." Both of them looked at the boy blissfully focused on his drawing, his tiny index finger making swooping lines on the tablet's screen. "This was an unexpected side-effect."

Tony pursed his lips. "Well, there's not much to do about that now."

The loaded silence that settled over the workshop made something dark and ugly twist in Tony's chest — a fear so strong he could taste it at the back of his tongue.

"What?" he demanded, not trying to hide the sharpness in his voice.

Steve's shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched tight. "Strange can undo—"

"No, absolutely not," Tony protested, horrified. "Are you _serious_? He's a just a _kid_! You can't—"

"Tony," Steve said sternly — with a hint of a warning. Tony fell silent, but kept glaring. Steve, as always, didn't even flinch. "Strange said he _could_ , but I didn't say I approved of the idea." Steve's gaze strayed to Winter yet again. "Ultimately, it's Bucky's choice."

As much as it pained Tony to admit it, Steve was probably right. Winter was essentially a part of Barnes, manifested in the shape of a child bearing his face. If anyone had the right to decide what happened to the kid, it was Barnes.

"And what does Barnes say about this?" Tony asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew he was being unnecessarily confrontational, but he couldn't help it. The thought of Winter being _unmade_ left Tony feeling nauseous.

Steve sighed, a flicker of concern in his gaze. "He hasn't said anything yet — not about the boy, at least. I think he's still in shock. Or denial."

Tony held back the scathing comment he wanted to voice, knowing it would only lead to unnecessary arguing. His and Steve's relationship was undeniably rocky — which was mostly thanks to Tony's temper and inability to forgive — but he didn't want to make it worse if he could help it.

"Well, I'll take care of Winter in the meantime," Tony offered, knowing someone had to. He wasn't an active member of the team at the moment, so he certainly had more time than the others.

Steve frowned. "Winter?"

"Yeah," Tony replied easily. "That's his name."

"You've named him." It wasn't a question, and Tony had a hard time figuring out if that was disapproval or surprise in Steve's voice.

"Someone had to." Tony shrugged before turning back to his screens. "I figured we didn't need one more James, and Bucky Jr. is just laughable."

A silence settled between them and Tony carefully avoided looking at Steve. The wound was still raw and aching, and being around Steve was more difficult than Tony liked to admit. Far too often he felt the urge to demand to know why his friendship was worth less than Barnes'. Or how Steve could leave Tony behind in Siberia without a second glance.

Tony knew he wouldn't like the answers, though, so he never asked.

He knew he had to forgive Steve eventually — it was inevitable, really — but he certainly wasn't there yet.

"Are you sure about this, Tony?" Steve asked, in that calm, careful voice he used when he thought that whatever he said was going to upset Tony and lead to another argument.

Even on his good days, Tony found that tone incredibly grating.

A reply was on the tip of Tony's tongue — a biting, sarcastic comment meant to hurt — but his gaze happened to land on Winter. The boy was staring at him, as if he had sensed the shift in the air — the heaviness of Tony's frustration and his ongoing battle against his anger and wounded pride. Winter didn't do anything, but Tony could feel something within him settle all the same. As much as Tony wanted to snap an insult at Steve, he refused to do so in front of Winter.

The kid shouldn't have to see that.

"I'm sure," Tony therefore replied, voice calm aside from a hint of sharpness he couldn't quite smooth out. He looked over his shoulder, meeting Steve's gaze. "Barnes needs some time, right? To figure out what he wants to do." Tony shrugged. "If he doesn't want to see the kid, who better to take care of him than me? Barnes and I don't exactly have a habit of hanging out."

Steve hesitated, and Tony couldn't help wondering if it was a question of trust. Perhaps Steve didn't think he could rely on Tony to take care of what was essentially a miniature version of his best friend?

The very same best friend who had murdered Tony's parents.

"I won't hurt him," Tony said defensively, stomach twisting at the mere implication. Did Steve really think him capable of harming an innocent child?

"What?" Steve blinked. "No, of course not. I didn't..." He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, his tense shoulders lowering. Steve suddenly looked more exhausted than he had in months. Tony couldn't even remember the last time Steve had let his guard down around him like this. Perhaps sometime before Ultron?

"I know you won't, Tony," Steve picked up, voice tired. "I'm more worried about you."

"Me?" Tony couldn't help sounding surprised. There was also a flutter of delight at the thought of Steve caring — and Tony felt suitably pathetic because of it.

Steve gestured towards Winter. "He's the physical embodiment of what killed your parents. Is that... are you okay with that?"

To be honest, Tony hadn't even thought about it. He _knew_ this was the Winter Soldier programming separated from James Barnes, but he hadn't realized that this little child — more so than Barnes — was actually responsible for the deaths of Tony's parents. It was simply impossible to wrap his head around.

Winter was still looking at Tony with wide, innocent eyes and a solemn expression. There was no malice in Winter's gaze — nothing that would suggest that this was a ruthless assassin who had slaughtered countless people over the past seventy years. He didn't look dangerous, and he certainly didn't look evil.

Tony struggled to breathe, his throat tight and heart hammering in his chest.

Perhaps Winter was exactly what he looked to be — a curious child, new to the world and its numerous wonders. There was no telling what he remembered, or what he would grow up to become. Perhaps, once removed from Barnes' mind, he ceased to be the Winter Soldier and became something else entirely — an entity of his own.

Without a word, the little boy pushed the tablet aside. Tony watched in silence as Winter purposefully crawled across the workbench, stopping in front of Tony. There he raised his short arms, making grabby hands.

Tony exhaled, ignoring the slight hitch in his breath, and lifted the boy off the bench, as requested. Winter clung to him, and it was difficult to tell if that was for Tony or Winter's benefit — though probably the former. Holding the kid was surprisingly comforting, allowing Tony to finally swallow the painful lump in his throat.

Steve remained silent, probably waiting for Tony's reply.

"I forgave Barnes months ago," Tony said, voice raw. "And I'm not going to hold this kid responsible for what happened. HYDRA were the ones who killed my parents — not Barnes, not Winter." He swallowed, looking up at Steve. "I'll be fine."

Steve seemed to want to reach out for Tony, but refrained for one reason or another. His gaze was softer, though, and a lot of the stiffness had bled out from his shoulders.

"That's good," he said. Steve looked at Winter, whose face was yet again hidden against Tony's neck, though without the accompanying tears this time. "Let me know if you need help, okay?"

Tony nodded, his hand stroking Winter's back, the movement far more instinctual than he thought it would be.

"Good luck with Barnes." Tony smiled crookedly. "I think you're going to need it."

Steve sighed, his responding smile faint enough to almost not qualify as a smile at all. "Yeah," he replied, "thanks."

 

* * *

 

Taking care of a child was just as difficult as Tony thought it would be, and he still knew he got off easy since Winter was, in many ways, older than his perceived years.

FRIDAY was a godsend. Without her reminders, Tony was worried that he might forget to feed the kid, and he spent more time organizing his schedule than he had in years.

Some activities were easier than others — like mealtimes and naps. Winter could handle the former on his own as long as Tony gave him the food in appropriate containers, and naps didn't require Tony's input at all. The fact that Winter preferred to sleep on top of Tony's workbench — curled up with a couple of pillows and a blanket — was perhaps a little weird, but also comforting. Tony didn't have to look far to reassure himself that Winter was still there, peacefully asleep.

Winter was less impressed by bathtime. Again, Tony was fairly certain that Winter wasn't as difficult as a normal child would have been, but he was by no means easy. The first time Tony had tried giving him a bath, both of them had ended up soaking wet and Winter only marginally cleaner.

Fortunately, Winter's reluctance had more to do with restlessness than any dislike for water from what Tony could tell — dealing with a phobia would have taken a considerable amount of time and planning. This time, however, the problem was solved by something as simple as a Rubik's Cube. As long as Winter had something to play with, he didn't mind taking baths.

Out of all the items on their schedule, the nights were the worst by far. Not because Winter was fussy — it had been ridiculously easy to get him to sleep that first night, exhausted as he was — but because of the nightmares.

Until Winter got his own room, Tony figured he'd let the kid sleep with him in his bed, since there was lots of room now that Pepper wasn't sharing it with him anymore. So he'd put the kid to bed and made sure he was fast asleep before returning to his workshop to get some work done, telling FRIDAY to keep an eye on the boy. Within an hour, Tony had to rush back to his bedroom to try and soothe Winter's nightmares away.

Being forced to listen to Winter's helpless whimpers nearly broke Tony's heart — especially since it turned out that Winter had those nightmares with painful regularity.

After that first night, Tony made a habit of staying with Winter once the bedtime stories had been read and the kid had nodded off. Tony often brought work with him, sitting with his back against the headboard and tablet in his lap. Other times he fell asleep shortly after Winter, but he always woke when the nightmares started, and did his best to offer comfort.

Those nightmares made Tony wonder just how much Winter knew about his past.

While he was a serious child, Winter didn't seem unhappy. Barnes still carried his guilt — visible for everyone to see — but Winter didn't seem to have the same problem. Perhaps he had no memory of all the deaths he had caused while still being a part of Barnes, or perhaps it was only during the nights that they surfaced.

But with or without those memories, Winter was clearly a pretty unusual child.

He rarely threw tantrums, for one, and instead showed his displeasure with flat glares and sullen silences, not unlike Barnes on his bad days. One time, when Tony had tried to make him eat broccoli, Winter had even gone so far as to _growl_ — which had been more adorable than intimidating.

From what Tony could gather, Winter understood more than the average two-year-old should. He was, like most children, in need of protection and guidance — not to mention unbelievably cranky without his afternoon nap — but also surprisingly independent and clever. He had an impressively large vocabulary, for an example, even if he rarely spoke. He preferred to simply nod or shake his head, or point at whatever he wanted — mostly Tony.

For all his maturity, Winter was still a child — one that loved attention and physical contact. Winter liked to be carried and coddled, and always curled up close to Tony at night, his tiny hands gripping Tony's sleep shirt.

Winter was careful with his affections, however, and was quite shy in front of the other Avengers. He preferred to hide behind Tony's legs or bury his face against Tony's neck whenever someone else was nearby. The only one who had managed to coax a couple of responses out of him was, unsurprisingly, Steve, but Winter clearly liked Tony best.

Tony would be lying if he said that didn't make his heart soar, just a little bit. To be loved so unconditionally by someone was quite addictive, and Tony constantly had to remind himself not to spoil Winter rotten in return.

He suspected that he failed at that, at least when it came to giving Winter attention. Tony got used to carrying Winter around on his hip as he worked, and when he had meetings Winter sat on the floor next to his chair, either drawing or playing simple games on a Stark tablet.

Within a week it reached the point where Tony smiled at the mere sight of the kid, and Winter's laugh — rare as it was — almost made Tony's chest burst with fondness. Somewhere along the way, Tony decided to ignore where Winter came from. It didn't seem important when there was playtime to be had, bedtime stories to read, and tight, heartfelt hugs to be shared.

There were times when Winter tested Tony's patience, of course. Like when he hid his shoes because he preferred to go barefoot, or when he refused to eat anything even remotely resembling vegetables, but those instances were far outweighed by the good ones.

Tony, for all his reluctance towards children, was happier than he had been in a long time, all because of Winter. Tony _liked_ taking care of the kid, and once he had gotten the hang of it, he was pretty good at it too. Winter seemed content, at least, and that was all that mattered.

Tony was so caught up in his and Winter's routines by then that he wasn't entirely prepared for when Barnes decided to enter the scene — even if Tony should have expected it.

One could only live in blissful ignorance for so long, after all.

 

* * *

 

One of the main reasons Tony had chosen to ignore Winter's origins was the fact that he hadn't seen Barnes in over two weeks. Ever since Winter had been dropped into their laps, the former Winter Soldier had avoided Tony even more vigorously than usual. Tony assumed it was because of Winter; Barnes wasn't comfortable seeing the kid, so he stayed away.

Despite Barnes' absence, Tony had made an effort to ask Steve how the man was doing — but the answer had been far from concise.

Apparently, getting rid of the HYDRA programming had helped in several ways, according to Steve. Barnes had fewer nightmares, for one — Tony couldn't help wondering if Winter had gotten them in his stead — and he seemed to have relaxed a great deal. But he was still troubled, both by guilt and his still patchy memory, and apparently spent a lot of his time staring off into space. Barnes seemed distracted, Steve had said, but avoided the subject if Steve tried to ask him what was wrong.

Things could be worse, though, and Tony was genuinely happy for Barnes. Considering what the man had been through, he deserved a break. And, as far as Tony was concerned, Barnes could take all the time he needed to get used to the thought of Winter's existence — the longer he avoided the kid, the longer Tony got to be the one to take care of him.

It was inevitable for Winter and Barnes' paths to cross, however — they lived in the same compound — and when it eventually happened it was, in many ways, anticlimactic.

Tony and Winter were in the kitchen for a shared banana break — Tony's eating habits had improved significantly since he started taking care of Winter — which mostly meant trying to make Winter eat the banana rather than smear it all over his adorable little face.

"Winter, sweetheart, I know your coordination isn't the best, but the food is supposed to go _in_ side your mouth, not beside it," Tony chastised fondly, reaching for some paper napkins. Winter was perched on the kitchen counter, his feet dangling over the edge. "And I know you're just trying to trick me because you managed this perfectly two days ago."

Winter, the cheeky little brat, only grinned, heels thumping against the cabinets as he swung his legs back and forth. In punishment, Tony took a gentle hold of Winter's chin and started wiping his face, holding back a snicker when Winter scrunched up his nose in dislike and tried to twist away.

"No, no, this is what you get when you—" Tony fell silent when Winter stiffened, his gaze snapping to stare at something over Tony's shoulder.

Tony immediately turned around, surprised to find Barnes hovering just inside the kitchen. He looked about as blank as Winter — both of them eyeing each other as if evaluating a threat — but Tony could see the hints of tension in Barnes' shoulders. Even so, Tony knew Barnes hadn't walked in on them by mistake. Barnes should have heard them long before he came anywhere near the kitchen, which meant he must have chosen to finally face the kid.

"Barnes," Tony greeted, trying to ignore the nervous twist in his gut.

Tony got a slow nod in return, but Barnes' focus quickly shifted to Winter — who was still staring at Barnes with his usual intensity. It was difficult to tell what was going through Winter's head in that moment. He didn't seem hostile, but there was certainly wariness in the way he didn't take his eyes off Barnes. Perhaps Winter knew he and Barnes were connected, more so than any two people had ever been; they had essentially been born from the same mind.

When Barnes neither replied nor stepped closer, Tony decided to break the stalemate.

"Winter," he said, waiting until the boy had reluctantly torn his gaze away from Barnes. "Finish your banana."

Winter sneaked a glance at Barnes before doing as told, eating his banana with neat, precise bites. Tony snorted at Winter's suddenly improved coordination and tossed away the used paper napkins.

No one said anything. Winter was busy eating and Barnes continued to stare. Just like with Winter, it was difficult to tell what Barnes was thinking. Perhaps he was trying to overcome the weirdness of being in the same room as a two-year-old copy of himself, or perhaps he was wondering why said two-year-old was wearing a t-shirt with the Iron Man helmet on it.

Let it never be said that FRIDAY didn't have excellent taste.

The silence that settled was uncomfortable enough that Tony decided to break that too.

"He can smell your fear, you know," he said conversationally.

There was a stunned pause. "What?"

Tony looked over his shoulder and smiled crookedly. Barnes had tensed a little further, but was still far from the haunted, subdued shell of a man he had been when he first came to the Avengers headquarters. Removing the programming really had done him a lot of good, offering him some much needed security and peace of mind.

"Winter," Tony clarified. "I haven't run any proper tests, but I'm pretty sure his sense of smell and hearing are enhanced, like yours. No super strength yet, though. We might have to wait for him to reach puberty for that."

Barnes said nothing, still looking wary. Tony only barely managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes. While Barnes' hesitance was understandable in some ways, he'd had over two weeks to get used to the thought of Winter's existence — he should be less awkward than this.

"Do you want a banana?" Tony offered, mostly just to break the silence. And maybe because he liked throwing Barnes off-kilter — Barnes looking confused was better than Barnes looking lost and afraid. "We're having an afternoon snack."

"A banana?" Barnes said the word as if he had never heard of it before — or perhaps it was the offer he found so preposterous.

This time, Tony did roll his eyes. "Yes, a banana."

Barnes remained motionless for a couple of seconds, probably weighing his options, before he finally stepped closer. He moved carefully, as if he expected Tony and Winter to be afraid of him and bolt at a too sudden movement. It was actually a little endearing.

Tony reached for one of the bananas on the counter and held it out towards Barnes. Frustratingly, Barnes only looked at it, still hesitant.

"It's a berry, not a bomb," Tony said.

"They taste weird," Barnes muttered, low enough that Tony almost didn't catch it. He accepted the banana, however.

Tony frowned. "Weird?"

Barnes' gaze flicked up to meet his, but it skittered away just as quickly. That glance was still enough for Tony to see just how nervous Barnes was. Tony couldn't say if it was his or Winter's presence that put Barnes on edge — perhaps both — but he felt himself relax, just a little. As stilted as things had been between him and Barnes since Siberia, Tony felt no desire to make Barnes outright uncomfortable.

They weren't enemies, and there was no need to be defensive.

"Different," Barnes clarified. "Compared to..." He made a vague hand gesture.

It took a second before Tony caught on. "Right. The banana plague." He looked at the fruit bowl on the counter. "Well, I can offer you an apple instead, if you'd rather have that?"

Barnes shook his head and started peeling the banana. "Banana is fine."

Winter was watching the conversation with frankly alarming focus, but he didn't try to intervene. He seemed surprisingly less shy in Barnes' company — as opposed to the other Avengers — but there was some wariness in him still. He looked like he expected Barnes to cause trouble of some kind, and wanted to be on his guard.

This was undoubtedly the most bizarre snack time Tony had ever been part of, but it wasn't _bad_ , per se — just a little strange. It gave Tony hope, though, because while Barnes might not have said so, he was obviously making an effort to spend time with Winter, however awkwardly. Tony hoped that meant Barnes wasn't going to allow Strange to do whatever he had offered to do to Winter.

For that alone, Tony could withstand the weirdness. He even made sure to smile when Barnes thanked him for the banana and left the room, just as suddenly as he had arrived.

Tony looked at Winter, who was gazing up at him with a flat expression.

"Yeah, I know," Tony agreed. "He's a little odd, but he means well."

Winter seemed to ponder this for a couple of seconds, then nodded. Without a word, he raised his arms, asking to be picked up.

"Alright, snowflake, back to the workshop we go," Tony said, lifting Winter off the counter. He couldn't help nuzzling Winter's cheek, grinning when the tickle of his beard made the kid giggle. Tony took a twirling step towards the workshop and Winter squealed from delight, his little face bright with laughter.

Tony kept grinning.

 

* * *

 

Barnes showed up more and more often after that. He stayed out of the workshop and Tony's private quarters, obviously, but whenever Tony and Winter were in any of the communal areas, he seemed to appear — always without warning. More often than not, Winter spotted Barnes long before Tony could.

It was still difficult to tell what the two thought of each other.

Winter smiled less in Barnes' presence than when he and Tony were alone, but he didn't hide from him, either. He also made no attempts to interact with the man, unless Tony suggested it. All in all, though, Winter quickly got used to Barnes' presence.

Barnes, on the other hand, was more hesitant. He always maintained a physical distance between Winter and himself, but it seemed to be out of fear for Winter's safety rather than his own discomfort. Despite this, he was always interested in whatever Winter was up to, as if he genuinely wanted to get to know him. The first time Winter showed Barnes one of his drawings — on Tony's suggestion — Barnes managed a small, tentative smile. The fact that he probably couldn't tell what the drawing was of didn't seemed to faze him in the slightest.

Tony wasn't sure what to think about Barnes' sudden interest in Winter. It was good that he made an effort, but a part of Tony couldn't help wondering if Barnes intended to take Winter away from him. Tony knew he shouldn't think that way. Winter wasn't an object to be shuffled around, first of all, and second, well — Tony still didn't have much of a claim on the kid. He was Winter's improvised guardian for now, but no one seemed to know how long that would last.

Barnes had the power to put an end to it.

Still, Tony made no attempt to limit the time the two spent together. He had no right to, and both Winter and Barnes actually seemed to be enjoying themselves, however slow the progress was.

As the days passed, Winter gained enough confidence to invite Barnes to play with him, though never in so many words. He simply held out a building block or a crayon in Barnes' direction and if Barnes accepted — which he always did — made room for him on the floor or couch he was sitting on.

It was, quite frankly, adorable. Not only because Tony got to see the terrifying former Winter Soldier draw with a two-year-old, but because of the twin looks of concentration on their faces. Tony couldn't help that his heart skipped when he saw just how invested Barnes was — how he listened intently whenever Winter felt comfortable enough to speak, and encouraged the kid with gentle smiles and kind words.

Barnes treated Winter much like you would a little brother — be it one he still didn't know very well.

In no time at all, it became routine for Barnes to spend a couple of hours with Winter and Tony every day. Usually, Tony would have taken Winter back to the workshop after their lunch, but now he relocated to the living room instead, where Barnes joined them without fail.

A part of Tony was a little anxious over sharing Winter's attention with someone else, but all the websites Tony had turned to for information had told him that social interaction was vital for a child's growth. So far, Winter had spent most of his time with Tony, and that kind of isolation was bad. Preferably, Tony should try to find some children of the same age for Winter to play with, but that might have to wait until they had actually given him an identity.

Or Barton volunteered one of his kids, perhaps.

Another benefit of Barnes' presence was that it offered Tony some room to breathe. As much as he loved Winter, the little rascal could be pretty demanding, and Tony hadn't gotten much time for himself since the kid showed up. Tony didn't regret taking responsibility over Winter, but he couldn't deny that it was nice to know that someone else could look after him, if only for a couple of minutes.

Tony couldn't say when he started trusting Barnes with Winter's safety. He was still hesitant about Steve and the other Avengers, but it seemed natural to leave Winter in Barnes' care. Perhaps because they were inevitably linked, though it had become obvious early on that they were quite different people — a revelation that was both surprising and fascinating.

Before, Tony would have guessed that Winter was a clone of Barnes, but that was clearly not the case — not when looking past the physical, at least. The differences were subtle at times, but Winter and Barnes were undeniably two separate people, who liked and disliked different things and behaved in different ways.

Despite Tony fears that introducing Barnes to the situation would disrupt his and Winter's carefully constructed little world, it turned out that he slid into place with shocking ease. Tony was still the one handling the meals, baths, and bedtimes, but Barnes had taken on a lot in terms of keeping Winter entertained and watched over.

Everything was, perhaps a little surprisingly, working out rather well.

 

* * *

 

"You look troubled."

Tony jumped, looking up at Barnes in surprise. He was in the middle of reading another complaint against the new and improved Accords, so he couldn't exactly say that he was enjoying himself. He wasn't sure if he wanted Barnes to know that, though.

"And you should stop sneaking up on people," he chastised, but without much heat. Last time Tony had looked, Barnes had been sitting next to Winter by the kitchen table, playing one of the simple memory games FRIDAY had bought. Somehow, Barnes had made it all the way over to where Tony was leaning against one of the kitchen counters, reading on his tablet, without him noticing.

Barnes didn't seem deterred by Tony's comment. "Are you okay?"

Tony paused, honestly surprised by the question. Even if he and Barnes had been spending a lot more time together the past week, they had never actually talked to each other; not about anything of importance, at least, and certainly not about either of their well-beings. He hadn't thought Barnes noticed, and wanted to bring it up in a conversation even less.

"I'm perfectly fine," Tony replied on pure reflex. It wasn't _that_ far off from the truth. He made sure to soften his words. "But thank you for asking."

Barnes stared at him — as if trying to solve a puzzle — and Tony had to force his posture to remain relaxed. He couldn't say what Barnes was looking for, but he was obviously gearing himself up for something.

Hopefully nothing bad.

Barnes cleared his throat, glancing down at the floor before meeting Tony's eyes again. He had been seeking out eye contact more and more often lately, which was a rather nice change from all the distracted staring he'd seemed to favor before Winter came into existence.

"I was thinking..." Barnes rubbed the back of his neck, starting over. "Or, I wanted to ask..." He fell silent, looking as if the words had failed him — or perhaps it was his courage. It was difficult to tell.

"Ask away," Tony urged.

"Can I help?" Barnes asked the question so gingerly that Tony knew he had to tread carefully.

"Help?"

Barnes nodded. "Yeah, with Winter. You know, meals and bedtime and... things." He shrugged, but it looked stiff. "I used to have sisters — baby sisters — so it's not like I don't know how to do it."

Tony's first reaction was to flat our refuse, but he knew that was his protective instincts talking — together with a level of possessiveness that was frankly just unhealthy. Instead he forced himself to consider the offer rationally, and he had to admit that it would help a great deal. Tony _was_ finding it difficult to manage his time, especially now that he couldn't spend as many hours in the workshop on account of the play dates with Barnes.

Perhaps sharing the responsibility wouldn't be so bad. Barnes had proven that he genuinely cared for Winter, even if he still seemed a little intimidated at times. Tony swallowed down the trickle of fear — the thought of losing Winter was terrifying — and decided to be a grownup for once. For Winter's sake, if nothing else.

"Sure, I wouldn't mind some help."

Barnes blinked, looking as if he'd expected his request to be rejected. The surprise shifted into delight soon enough, even if it was careful and a little subdued.

"It's bedtime soon, right?" Barnes asked. He obviously wanted to get started right away.

Tony smiled and put the tablet down; the Accords could wait for another hour or two. "How about I show you the routine and you'll do it tomorrow?"

Barnes nodded and looked over at Winter. His gaze was as soft as his smile, and there was something achingly hopeful in his expression. Tony saw a lot of vulnerability in the line of his shoulders and tightness around his eyes, but Barnes still looked like a man who was finally willing to begin to heal, however tentatively.

It was breathtaking to watch.

Tony stubbornly refused to acknowledge the skip in his heartbeat, and instead set about teaching Barnes about Winter's bedtime routine.

It was safer that way.

 

* * *

 

Barnes took his new responsibility very seriously, and listened carefully to Tony's instructions. Over the next couple of days, he learned more about the practical aspects of taking care of Winter, and didn't shy away from a single one.

Devotion was clearly not something Barnes lacked.

They worked out a routine quickly enough, one that allowed Tony more time to work and Winter some much needed variety in his everyday life. Tony was in charge of the mornings and breakfast, simply because it was easier that way, what with Winter sleeping in his bed. Winter then stayed with Tony in his workshop until Barnes came to fetch him. They were usually gone for a couple of hours — which included lunch — before returning in time for Winter's afternoon nap.

More often than not, Barnes lingered in the workshop while Winter slept. Tony wasn't sure why, but he never tried to kick him out. The workshop could get pretty lonely now that Bruce wasn't there to keep him company.

Barnes was surprisingly unobtrusive. He occasionally asked questions about Tony's projects, sure, and there were times when they got pulled into lengthy conversations, but Barnes instinctively seemed to know when to give Tony peace and quiet to work and when he didn't mind talking.

Once again, Barnes slipped into place with an ease that was pretty alarming.

Barnes ended up spending _hours_ with Tony in his workshop, playing with the bots and Winter, or talking to Tony when he was available. Sometimes he seemed content to just sit in a corner and read, as if that was the most natural thing in the world. Bizarrely, that's what it felt like to Tony — it was easy to get used to Barnes' presence in the workshop, and he never felt a need to shoo him out.

Having Barnes nearby was, in short, disorientingly comfortable.

Tony told himself not to get used to it.

 

* * *

 

Barnes' first attempt at giving Winter a bath went about as well as Tony's. Even if Tony had explained how to do it — and was with them the entire time — Winter had clearly decided to be difficult. Perhaps he wanted to test Barnes' patience, or maybe he just enjoyed splashing unsuspecting people with water.

Tony had a feeling it might be a bit of both.

It didn't take long at all before Tony and Barnes were drenched, and Winter kept slithering out of reach when Barnes tried to shampoo his hair. In all honesty, it was quite hilarious that a two-year-old could best two grown men, and Tony had a hard time holding back his snickers.

"Okay, that's enough," Barnes said decisively after his third attempt at washing Winter's hair.

Barnes got to his feet, and Tony did his best not to notice how Barnes' white, wet, and near-transparent undershirt clung to his chest in all the right places. Tony watched, baffled, as Barnes stepped into the tub and sat down, clothes and all. Then, with a firm but gentle hand, Barnes reeled Winter in and placed him in his lap.

The kid looked so shocked at the turn of events — his master plan foiled — that Tony couldn't help laughing. Barnes gave him a triumphant grin in response and started shampooing Winter's hair, all while looking extraordinarily proud of himself.

Barnes was almost heartbreakingly careful whenever he touched Winter — as if afraid he would break — and always seemed to favor his right hand over his left, even for the most simple of tasks. Tony wasn't sure if Barnes was afraid that Winter would dislike the metal hand or if he was simply not comfortable using it, but he had decided not to question him.

Once it became clear that Winter had no intention of struggling free — he looked quite content in Barnes' lap, as a matter of fact — Tony allowed himself to relax. He leaned against the side of the tub, elbow supported against the edge and chin in his hand, and watched as Barnes continued to give Winter his bath.

Barnes was completely focused on his task, his expression breathtakingly serene. Something warm and tickling was growing in Tony's chest, but he quickly pushed it down. He shouldn't go there. Only misery lay down that road.

But he couldn't seem to stop staring.

Barnes was beautiful.

Whenever he managed to let go of the past he looked like a completely different person, his eyes clear and mesmerizingly bright, with a smile that sent Tony's heart skittering.

The smile he was wearing now was no exception.

Several wet locks of hair had loosened from Barnes' ponytail and were now artfully clinging to his skin. There was one in particular, following the curve of Barnes' jaw, that made Tony's fingers itch with the need to reach out and gently brush it aside.

He never would, though, because he wasn't foolish enough to think the touch would be welcome.

Tony laughed when Winter leaned back and rubbed his lathered hair against Barnes' chest, making a mess of his shirt. Despite the stern look on Barnes' face, Tony could tell he was inches away from laughing himself.

There was something incredibly humbling in being allowed to see Barnes' eyes sparkle with mirth — his carefree joy precious beyond words — and Tony studiously ignored that warm, fluttering feeling in his chest. He wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to fight it, but he would do his best.

He was _not_ going to ruin Barnes' happiness and make him uncomfortable enough retreat back into his shell — not over something as silly as a crush.

 

* * *

 

Once Winter had gotten used to Barnes, he seemed to have an easier time with the other Avengers as well. He still liked Tony best — with Barnes as a clear second — but he occasionally allowed Natasha to read to him in the afternoons, and was overjoyed every time Steve sat down to draw with him.

Raising Winter became more and more of a team effort, and Tony wasn't entirely sure what to do with that. He still had the main responsibility — and Winter still slept in Tony's bed, his nightmares remaining too severe for him to sleep in his own room — but the entire team seemed to be fighting over babysitting duty.

As much as Tony appreciated the interest everyone took in Winter's well-being, there were some questions that had yet to be answered.

No one talked about Winter's future. No one mentioned if he would be staying with them from now on and, if so, with whom. Perhaps they were all waiting for Barnes to make an official notice about Winter now being a permanent fixture in their lives, but that never happened.

Tony was beginning to worry about the practical details. They should get Winter a birth certificate, no matter how many lies they might have to put on it. They should take Winter to a proper pediatrician, since the medics stationed at headquarters weren't exactly experts on treating children. They should start making plans for preschools and play dates with other kids.

They couldn't just keep skirting around the subject of Winter and his continued stay with the Avengers, but no one seemed prepared to be the one to break the stalemate — not even Tony. He was more afraid than ever that he might lose the kid, now that Barnes and Winter had gotten to know each other.

Barnes still had the power to take Winter away from him, and Tony knew he wouldn't handle that gracefully.

Sooner or later, Tony's concern for Winter's future would outweigh his own fears and he'd bring it up — he knew that — but he had yet to reach that point. So instead he chose to remain silent, like the big coward that he was.

 

* * *

 

The morning Tony woke and realized he'd slept the whole night through, his heart jumped in fear. Winter's nightmares usually pulled him from his sleep, and if they hadn't, Winter was either no longer in his bed or Tony had left him to fight the night terrors alone.

Neither of them were particularly favorable options.

Winter was still there, though, sleeping peacefully on his stomach next to Tony, right where he belonged. What _didn't_ belong was the metal hand resting lightly against Winter's back, and the super soldier it was attached to.

Barnes was fast asleep on Winter's other side, his expression soft and unguarded. The morning sunlight was streaming in through the window, turning Barnes' hair into dark gold and glinting off the metal plates of his arm.

He was breathtakingly beautiful.

Tony closed his eyes and tried to gather his composure. He must have fallen asleep while Barnes was reading Winter his bedtime story. Ever since Barnes had learned the routine, he and Tony had agreed to tuck Winter in every other night, but, more often than not, they did it together.

Last night had been no different, and Tony cursed himself for letting his guard down. He'd always made sure to fall asleep _after_ Winter had nodded off and Barnes had left his bedroom, to avoid something like this happening. Tony wasn't angry that Barnes had decided to stay — Barnes had, in all likelihood, been the one to soothe Winter's nightmares away — and that was the problem. Tony _wanted_ Barnes to stay and he didn't trust himself not to ask if he got to experience what that was like, even just once.

How was Tony supposed to keep his feelings in check when he knew what Barnes looked like sleeping next to Winter? In Tony's own bed, no less. And that in doing so, Barnes had given Tony the first good night's sleep he'd had in weeks?

It was honestly more than Tony's heart could bear.

So he kept his eyes closed, trying to ignore the searing want in his gut.

Only when Winter began to stir did Tony dare to open his eyes. He tried to pretend that his heart didn't skip a beat when his gaze met Barnes' — he had apparently woken up as well — but Tony wasn't fooling anyone, least of all himself. Barnes looked sleepy yet content, his smile soft enough to make Tony's chest clench from longing.

Barnes yawned and stroked Winter's back, probably without thinking. "Mornin'," he mumbled, his voice rough in all the right ways.

Somehow, Tony managed to smile back. "Good morning," he replied, desperately willing his heart to stop racing, but to no avail.

Barnes needed to stop looking so goddamned happy, or else Tony was going to start making assumptions.

He was well and truly fucked.

 

* * *

 

In many ways, Tony was surprised by his obvious infatuation with Barnes, but, at the same time, it made complete sense. They had been spending a lot of time together lately thanks to Winter, and Tony had finally gotten to know Barnes as someone other than Steve's best friend.

Barnes was — if Tony dared to make assumptions — his friend too now.

The attention Tony received from Barnes was quite flattering. He asked Tony about his projects, his likes and dislikes, and listened to Tony's replies while nodding in all the right places. He seemed genuinely interested, and obviously saw the workshop as a safe place where he could find shelter.

How was Tony supposed to resist that?

It wasn't like he hadn't already forgiven Barnes for what had happened to his parents — that really was the only complaint Tony might have had at that point. Barnes was kind, loyal, and surprisingly funny when he relaxed enough to let his snarkiness shine through. He also _adored_ Winter, and always seemed to find ways to lighten Tony's load, either by taking care of Winter for an extra hour to let Tony finish a project, or by being there for Winter during the nights so that Tony could sleep without being disturbed.

Barnes was so considerate it _hurt_ , and Tony had, despite his best efforts, fallen in love with him. Unfortunately, Tony knew that could never end well, so he made sure to shove the emotions to the very back of his mind and refused to acknowledge the excited flutters in his stomach.

Barnes deserved better.

 

* * *

 

"Steve told me I should get Winter's papers in order."

Tony froze, screwdriver in hand and heart in his throat. He looked up from the wire he was inspecting inside Barnes' arm.  
  
"What?" Tony could barely keep his voice stable.

They were in the workshop for the monthly maintenance on Bucky's arm. For once, Winter wasn't there with them, since it was good for him to spend time with others every now and then, no matter how nervous it made Tony to not have Winter within his sight. Wilson was the lucky winner that day.

"Well..." Barnes looked troubled, scratching his chin with his free hand. "I mean, he needs an identity and all that. Official guardians and a social security number."

Dread was growing at the back of Tony's throat and he tried desperately to swallow it down.

This was it. He was going to lose Winter.

Tony wasn't ready; he doubted he ever would be. His fingers clenched around the screwdriver, his chest too tight to breathe properly — or perhaps that was the impending panic attack.

"Yeah," he agreed hoarsely, "he does."

Tony knew it was only a matter of time before the room started spinning. He carefully closed the panel on Barnes' arm and placed the screwdriver on the workbench, hoping Barnes wouldn't see how much his hands were shaking.

"I figured we'd call him my great-great nephew or somethin'," Barnes continued, his metal fingers whirring as he flexed them, testing their functionality. "Because the truth's obviously not gonna work, but he'll grow up to look like me so we're gonna have to say we're related somehow."

A nod was all Tony could manage, his throat having closed up. Barnes looked at him and Tony _prayed_ his poker face was still good enough to hide just how badly he was panicking.

"Steve said your lawyers might be able to help with the details?"

Tony forced himself to reply. "Of course." No matter how much it hurt, Tony would do everything he could to give Winter a good future. "Just let me know when and I'll set up a meeting."

"When's good for you?"

In all honesty, Tony had hoped he wouldn't have to be there in person. He wasn't sure if he could bear watching Winter get signed off to someone else. He averted his gaze and rose to face his workbench instead — Barnes would no doubt be able to see the misery in his eyes otherwise.

"I don't think I have to be there for that," Tony replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

There was a brief silence, as if Barnes was surprised by Tony's reply.

"I'm pretty sure you do," he said. "You have to sign the papers, right?"

It took a second before Tony realized the implications of those words, and he couldn't help turning to stare at Barnes once he did. Barnes looked confused, a small wrinkle having appeared between his eyebrows. When their eyes met, the confusion changed into shocked understanding.

"You thought I wasn't going to make you one of his guardians?" Barnes sounded devastated. He got up from his chair, all urgent and earnest, and Tony had to fight his instinct to take a step back. "Tony, he's more yours than mine. I wouldn't even know how to do this without you."

Somehow, Tony was able to swallow down the lump in his throat, relief washing over him. He'd get to keep Winter. Barnes wasn't going to take him away. Tony closed his eyes, shoulders slumping as he tried to slow his racing heart.

There was a gentle touch against Tony's wrist, and he looked down to find Barnes' right hand curling around it. Barnes' gaze was so soft and sincere that it took Tony's breath away.

"I thought you knew," Barnes whispered.

Slowly, Tony shook his head. "I just... I couldn't see why you'd let me have that."

"Tony, I would give you the _world_."

Tony couldn't help that his heart skipped a beat. There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for why Barnes would say that, but Tony had a hard time thinking of one when Barnes carefully laced their fingers together, tugging Tony closer.

Barnes looked at him, his blue, blue gaze warm and imploring. "I told myself to wait until after we'd gotten everything settled, but now I don't think I should. You seem to have gotten this all wrong."

It was difficult to breathe again, but for a completely different reason than last time. If they moved just a little bit closer Tony would be able to count Barnes' eyelashes.

"Barnes—"

"I'm pretty sure you can call me Bucky by now."

Tony swallowed, his gut twisting from nerves. "Bucky," he amended, "I'm not sure if I'm following."

Surprisingly, Bucky smiled, soft and tender. His thumb was rubbing distracting circles against the back of Tony's hand. "I must have been too subtle. I'm saying that I want both of our names on Winter's forms. And I..." He paused and swallowed quickly — as if to gather his courage. "And if you're ever able to forgive me for what I did to your parents—"

"I forgave you months ago." Tony knew he probably shouldn't interrupt, but he couldn't let Bucky believe he was still holding him responsible. Bucky's eyes widened, as if the possibility of Tony forgiving him hadn't even occurred to him. Tony squeezed Bucky's hand. "It wasn't your fault. They made you do it."

Bucky seemed to need a moment to process those words.

Eventually, he managed a faint smile. "I'm not sure if I deserve that, but thank you."

"You do." Tony was sure of that much. "You deserve a new start, and you deserve to be happy."

Bucky's smile grew stronger, and he tugged on Tony's hand again, pulling him so close that Tony had to tip his head back to meet his gaze. "Speaking of that," he murmured. "You didn't let me finish the sentence."

Tony had to be stupid not to see where this was going. He still wasn't entirely sure _why_ this was happening — Bucky could do so much better than _Tony_ — but he wasn't foolish enough to deny himself something he had been wanting for weeks.

"Go on," he said, congratulating himself on how his voice didn't crack.

Bucky didn't waste any time.

"Will you let me take you out on a date?"

Just the way Bucky phrased the question was enough to send a delighted shiver down Tony's spine. He'd been on many dates in his life, but no one had ever asked him like that.

"Yes," Tony replied, perhaps a little quicker than what was entirely dignified. Bucky didn't seem to judge him. "You may take me out on a date."

Bucky grinned, his left hand settling carefully on Tony's hip. "How about this Friday?"

Tony felt a little breathless, but managed a smile of his own. "Sounds good to me." He might have to clear his schedule, but he'd do it without remorse if it meant he'd get to spend time alone with Bucky.

"Steve can babysit?" Bucky asked.

"Steve can babysit," Tony agreed.

A second passed, both of them probably looking like idiots, staring fondly at each other, but Tony didn't care. He reached up with his free hand and gently ran his thumb along Bucky's jaw.

"I look forward to it," he said.

Bucky smiled. "So do I."

 

* * *

 

"Wake uuup."

Tony groaned and burrowed deeper into his pillow. Small, insistent hands were pushing against his shoulder, making him rock gently where he lay.

"Uuuuup!" Winter whined. He obviously gave up on pushing Tony out of bed and started tugging on his pillow instead, the little brat. "Tonyyyy."

"Snowflaaake," Tony whined back. As expected, that earned him a giggle, be it a brief one.

"Up!" Winter commanded. "Breakfast!"

Now that Winter mentioned it, Tony could smell coffee, which was enough to make him open one eye and peer up at the four-year-old who had invaded his bed. The two of them were the only ones in it, meaning that Bucky must have gotten up already, as was his habit.

Pale spring sunlight was shining in through the bedroom window, and Tony could see the tops of snow-covered mountains and pointy trees spread out for miles and miles. Bucky's choice of family holiday destinations was always a lot more rural than Tony would have gone for.

"Waffles?" he asked. Bucky made the best waffles.

"Waffles," Winter replied, nodding seriously.

Tony sighed before pushing back the comforter. "Fine, but only because I get waffles."

He'd barely had time to climb out of bed before Winter raised his arms, asking to be lifted. Tony obliged, even if Winter was getting a little too big to carry around everywhere — or maybe Tony's back just wasn't what it used to be.

"Up we go." Tony settled Winter on his hip, and Winter held on by grabbing Tony's t-shirt.

"So what will we be doing today, snowflake?" Tony asked as he headed for the kitchen. The chalet they had rented was a palace according to Bucky's standards, but Tony found it rather small, to be honest.

"Snowman!" Winter exclaimed.

"Yes, because the three you made yesterday clearly aren't enough," Tony replied gravely.

He stepped into the kitchen and couldn't help the silly smile that spread on his lips at the sight of Bucky making breakfast. His hair was gathered in a sloppy bun, his feet bare despite the chilly floors, and Tony was sure he'd never seen anyone quite as beautiful.

Bucky looked up from the waffle iron and smiled back. "Mornin'."

"Good morning," Tony replied, stepping in to give Bucky a kiss. Winter made a disgusted face, but Tony paid him no mind. "A little bird told me you're making waffles."

Bucky grinned. "What better way to drag you out of bed?"

Tony rolled his eyes while walking over to the kitchen table, setting Winter down on one of the chairs.

"Less snarking, more waffles."

"As Mr. Stark commands," Bucky replied, mock-serious. The deadpan glare Tony sent his way was rewarded with another wide grin.

Bucky carried a plate of waffles to the table, barely having time to set it down before Winter speared one with his fork.

"He eats as much as you do," Tony remarked, relaxing instinctively when he felt Bucky's arms slide around his waist. Bucky was a solid wall of warmth against his back.

"Runs in the family," Bucky replied, but he sounded distracted — probably because he was busy placing gentle kisses against Tony's neck. That never failed to make Tony's knees weak. Bucky pulled Tony closer, his lips brushing against Tony's ear. "I love you," he whispered softly.

As always when Bucky said those words, Tony felt his heart flutter. Most days, Tony couldn't believe how fortunate he was, but he had decided to stop second-guessing his luck and simply embrace what Bucky was offering.

He reached up, fingers stroking Bucky's hair. "I love you too," he replied, smiling when Bucky's lips brushed against the corner of his mouth.

Bucky squeezed a little tighter and placed a kiss on Tony's cheek.

Winter ignored them both, clearly more interested in his waffles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's mostly just fluff, isn't it? Well, I hope you had fun either way! I know I did :D
> 
> Also, both [Shi_Toyu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu) and [Potrix](http://archiveofourown.org/users/potrix) mentioned that the thought of Winter in Tony's big AC/DC t-shirt was just too cute for words and should be drawn, so I did. If you want to see it, you can find that picture [HERE](http://lienwyn.tumblr.com/post/159906019396/i-was-told-that-the-cutest-scene-in-my). He is one precious little snowflake.
> 
> Until next time, my lovelies!


End file.
